


Again I Go Unnoticed

by fullmetalheart



Series: gods bleed too, you know? [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, BUT I CANT, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Character Study, Gen, Loki (Marvel) Angst, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel) Whump, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Save them, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, also how is that not a tag, he just messes up sometimes, he spends most of this fic angsting, i mean the whump wasn't intended it just happened, i need to stop rambling in the tags, idk how to tag, idk what im doing anymore, im going to stop adding tags now, im sorry, infinity war? idk her didnt happen, its light angst, kind of? i dunno, my summary sounded better in my head i promise, okay so this is more like mild angst, still kinda angsty tho, thor is trying his best guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 20:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14961755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmetalheart/pseuds/fullmetalheart
Summary: Loki has always been a paradox. He always felt the need to hide, and yet he has always desperately wished to be seen. It's easier to fade into the background, so that's what he did. He stood back and let his brother take the limelight, trying to ignore how fiercely he wished that things could be different, how he wished that he could be different.Or...Five times that Loki went unnoticed (and one time he didn't).





	Again I Go Unnoticed

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone.  
> So this is my very first fanfiction I have ever posted on this site and I wrote it mainly to get more comfortable with how everything works before I start posting multichapter fics. If you have any tips or constructive criticism don't be afraid to share. I have something big in the works, however I got inspiration for this and it would not stop nagging me, so I just sat down and started writing. This took me days and it's not even that long. Damn, writing is hard.  
> This work is inspired by a certain line from a certain song. I've known this song for what seems like forever. I heard it again recently and for some reason I could not stop thinking about Loki. Hence, this little oneshot was born.  
> I am new to writing Marvel fanfiction. Another purpose for me writing this was to get comfortable with my characterization of Loki himself. The way I discuss how his (and Thor's) magic works is 50% personal headcanon and 50% inspired from other fanfictions I have read.  
> Shout out to my buddy Gigi for proofreading this for me. If you see any mistakes, blame her not me.  
> Enjoy!

_Exhale,_

_Another wasted breath_

_Again, it goes unnoticed_

\- Again I Go Unnoticed, Dashboard Confessional

 

Loki was good at hiding from people. What trickster wouldn’t be? His seidr and spells certainly gave him an edge, but Loki had never had any trouble blending into the shadows and alcoves that made perfect hiding places throughout the royal palace, even before his mother taught him the secret behind invisibility.

It was useful for his pranks, and irritating people in general, as well as other forms of mischief Loki would sometimes undergo.

Over a thousand years ago, when Thor and Loki had reached that age when they were more than boys but less than men, Thor had punched Loki directly in the nose. Not without provocation of course, and it wouldn’t be the last time that Loki would be on the receiving end of his brother’s fist. Loki had always been good at pushing Thor’s buttons. He would taunt and make offhand comments with that silver tongue and that sly smirk, always trying to see how far he could push his brother until Thor snapped, always wondering just how much he could stir the pot before chaos erupted. Thor was not his only target, just his most frequent one.

This time around, Loki had accidentally gone too far with his teasing. The banter escalated into an argument, both brothers screaming insults at one another until their voices were hoarse. Suddenly, Loki was staggering backwards as pain burst in the front of his face. His eyes watered, and he had to blink back tears of pain. Loki stared at Thor in shock, whose chest was heaving, and face was twisted in rage. Loki felt warm liquid pouring from his nose. It dripped over his lips, and he could both smell and taste the metallic tang of blood. Trying to stem the flow, Loki lifted a shaking hand to his face. Searing pain tore through his nose and into the back of his skull. He gasped, he had felt something _shift_.

Thor had broken his nose.

Loki whirled around and fled.

He stumbled through the palace corridors, hands covering his face in a desperate attempt to keep blood from falling to the floor. Luckily, no one saw him in his frantic dash to his rooms. He burst through the door and staggered over to his bathroom. Loki leaned over the sink as he stared at himself in the mirror.

His green eyes were swimming in unshed tears. Panicked gasps for air wracked through his shoulders as he tried to breathe through the pain. A colorful bruise decorated the bridge of his nose. His lips and chin were covered in blood. Loki stared in horror as his eyes settled on his nose itself. It was twisted, bent in a painfully wrong way.

_Broken._

He shuddered.

In the future, Loki would learn to endure much worse agony. Currently however, he was young, inexperienced, and naïve. While broken bones were no stranger to him, he’d never had to deal with one on his own.

A part of him fiercely wished to go to his mother for help. Frigga wouldn’t make him go to the healers, her magic would be enough. She would fix him, then brush his tears from his checks and gently press her lips to his forehead. But she would also ask him what happened, and his pride would not allow him to go crying to her.

Loki knew what he needed to do.

He set his broken nose himself. His ragged cry of pain echoed throughout his silent, empty rooms. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the mirror, the cool glass was a relief against his burning skin. Once he could think again, Loki grabbed a towel and sank down onto the marble floor. He sat against the wall and pressed the fabric to his nose, hoping the bleeding would stop at some point. Loki tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling.

_Ouch._

A knock at his door made him startle, and a fresh wave of anger swept through him when he recognized Thor’s voice.

“Brother, I’m sorry. May I come in?”

Loki groaned.

“Go away, Thor.”

There was a beat of silence before Thor spoke again, and Loki cursed his brother’s persistence.

“Your nose appeared to be broken. If you would like I could-”

Loki interjected, “You’ve done enough.”

Loki waited until he heard his brother’s footsteps retreating from his door, then he stood up with the desperate urge to leave. He couldn’t remain in his rooms, not if Thor decided to alert the healers about his current problem. Loki grabbed his already bloodied towel and turned on the faucet. He mopped the blood from his face and weaved a hasty glamour to hide the bruises. Trying to ignore the dull, throbbing agony that seemed to have embedded itself into his very being, he set a quick pace on his way to his favorite place in the entire palace.

Well, his second favorite place, as his mother’s gardens were his first.

Loki strode through the large wooden doors that lead into the library. He was pleased to see that the bookkeeper and the usual attendants were nowhere to be found. He slipped through the shelves, before ducking behind a bookcase that appeared to be pressed flat against the wall to reveal Loki’s favorite hiding place.

Loki had found the small alcove when he was just a child. He had been curiously prodding a lantern in his and Thor’s bedroom until it tipped over and crashed onto a rug. Loki had managed to put the fire out, but not before it had burned across a good portion of the rug. He bolted, racing across the palace to find a hiding place. His search had brought him here. Eventually, the rumbling of Loki’s stomach had drawn him out of his hiding place and he had gotten scolded anyway, but he had never revealed where he had been hiding. Loki had visited the place regularly since then, bringing blankets and pillows to create something of a den. As he got older Loki placed a warding on the entrance of his hiding place, ensuring that no attendants would find it and disturb his things.

He was sure Heimdall knew of it, giving his all-seeing abilities, but he could only wonder if the gatekeeper had ever informed his parents of it.

It had been awhile since Loki had visited, and there was a thick layer of dust over the pillows and blankets that had resided there for years. With a wave of Loki’s hand, the dust disappeared into nothing. He flopped down ungracefully on the pile of pillows and curled up under a blanket. Loki wasn’t as small as he used to be, and he barely had enough room to curl up comfortably anymore. The wood of the bookcase pressed against his spine, and it probably would have felt mildly uncomfortable if it wasn’t so familiar. The smell of books, ink, and candlewicks burning lulled Loki into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

When Loki awoke the next day, he was sore and stiff having slept on the floor, but he felt oddly rested. The agony had faded into a dull ache. He hauled himself to his feet and wrapped himself in an invisibility working. Then he slipped past the attendants who were coming in for the day and out into the hall.

No one had gone looking for him, and no one had found him. Loki told himself that he was pleased that his old hiding place remained hidden, all the while ignoring the sting of bitter disappointment that always came after he successfully escaped notice.

 

When Thor and Loki fought together, they made each other stronger. Thor was the perfect blundering distraction, and his presence allowed Loki to slip through the enemy unseen, taking out nearly as many as Thor did. His underhanded tactics were not seen as respectable by the other Aesir, but Loki thought it was smarter and more lethal than throwing oneself headfirst into battle and hoping for the best. Loki calculated every move, and when he went unnoticed by the enemy he could be terrifyingly deadly.

The Warriors Three never noticed this, too engrossed in the glory of battle. Sif however, being more observant than the other three combined, noticed this effect multiple times. Sometimes she would stop and watch the path of defeated enemies the brothers carved out with their combined strength. She found that it was hard to keep her eyes on Loki. Thor just drew her attention from him and she would forget that he was there, at least until he would cut down an enemy gunning for Thor’s back.

 _Well I suppose_ , she had mused, _that was the entire point of Loki’s strategy._

Thor enhanced Loki’s abilities in combat, and Loki raised Thor’s chances of making it out of a battle unscathed.

Thor noticed. He pretended that he didn’t.

The side effect of this strategy was that no one saw what happened to him in battle. Particularly, no one noticed when he got injured. Usually this wasn’t a problem. Loki would pick up the usual bruises and scrapes that anyone did while fighting and he would be fine. Occasionally he would get injuries that were worse. Like a concussion that kept him bedridden for a day with migraines, or a nasty cut on his arm that would take more concentration and effort than usual to heal with magic, but he was _fine_. He’d slip away after battle before his brother could find him and ask about his wellbeing and nurse his wounds himself. He was _fine_. Never mind the fact that Loki started getting migraines late at night in memory of that agony filled day, or how sometimes the faint scar on his arm would throb in phantom pain. He was _fine_.

Loki could take care of himself.

So, when a hot flash of pain flared against his stomach as a sword sliced through his leather armor and tore through his stomach, Loki didn’t give it a second thought. He hissed in pain and flung a knife into the neck of the enemy who had given him the injury, then dove back into the fray. Adrenaline pumping through his veins distracted him from the discomfort and kept him on his feet when he should have been feeling woozy from the blood loss. Loki told himself he could deal with it later.

Oh, how he regretted that decision.

Because now he sat slumped against the wall of his bathroom, bleeding out onto the cold floor.

So, the wound was a bit deeper than he had anticipated, and he had lost more blood than he had realized. It was fine however, because Loki could still deal with it himself.

Loki peeled his blood-soaked tunic away from his skin, wincing as the fabric tugged against the slice in his stomach. He shakily wrapped a bandage around his middle. It was sloppy work, not tight enough to be wholly effective in slowing the bleeding, and a far cry from his usual immaculate care.  His head was spinning, and Loki’s usually sharp mind was dulled by the injury.

 _Magic, use your seidr to hasten the healing_ , some part of him told himself.

Oh yeah, that was probably an intelligent idea. Still, he didn’t move.

_Loki._

Now _that_ sounded like his mother’s voice. He deduced that he was probably going mad.

_Focus._

Loki heaved a sigh and sat up a little, immediately regretting his decision to move when the dizziness hit him. He reached for his seidr. It wasn’t like Loki could just _ignore_ the massive tear in his midsection after all, no matter how much he wished to.

 _Ah, how amusing would that be_ , he pondered derisively. _One warrior prince who celebrates because he was victorious in battle without receiving an injury, and another who met his doom bleeding out in his own bathroom because he was too prideful to seek aid, and too weak to manage it on his own._

It almost made him want to die right then and there, just out of unadulterated spite.

Loki couldn’t help the exhale of relief as his magic began its work. It numbed the pain and slowed the bleeding. His thoughts cleared themselves of a heavy fog. A slight tingle buzzed against his skin as the cut closed, rendering the previously needed bandages useless.

He sat there for a moment to collect himself, before he hauled himself unsteadily to his feet.

_Well that was enjoyable._

Loki stood in front of the mirror and unwrapped the bandages, revealing a nasty looking scar. It stretched from the bottom of the left side of his ribcage, all the way to the top of his right hipbone. The healers probably could have done a better job in minimizing the scarring.

 _How unsightly_.

The irony of it amused him. The prince who was known for his prowess in battle had flawless, unscarred skin, while the prince who was known to be a scholar had a reminder of war etched into his flesh.

Loki shrugged. The scarring would fade in a few years, and in a century it would be almost entirely gone. For now however, it would serve as a reminder to be more cautious in battle, and to remind himself that he could always take care of himself.

No matter how much a part of him wished he didn’t have to.

 

Loki was known as the God of Mischief for a reason. He was clever, crafty, and used trickery to get his way. He would be using his usual underhanded methods to do so tonight. How else does one sneak out from home at night without their parent’s permission?

Of course, Loki knew he would be discovered, courtesy of Heimdall, but he found that he honestly couldn’t care less at the moment. He could hide himself if he wanted to, having discovered a way to do so not all that long ago, but it didn’t matter if he was seen. It wasn’t like he was sneaking out to accomplish anything in particular.

Most Loki’s actions had one of two purposes:

  1. He had an intricate plan, well developed and completely thought out. Failsafe, if you will.
  2. He wanted to see if he could get away with it, or what kind of disturbance his mischief could cause. Absolutely no real intent behind any of it.



This scenario happened to be the latter.

Loki grabbed a warm, dark green cloak that he had thrown over the back of a chair and wrapped it around his shoulders. It was supposed to be a chilly night. Then he tucked a thick book titled _The Art of World-Walking_ (because he planned to do some light reading) under his arm and strode out the door.

He didn’t stop to consider an invisibility working. He could hide from any guards or servants without the assistance of his seidr. Loki moved through the palace like a shadow. His was presence merely a whisper. He met few on his way, and those he saw did not notice him. Loki even slipped past a sleepy looking Thor who appeared to be on his way to the kitchens. He had to resist the urge to play a practical joke and move onward. Needlessly tormenting his brother had not been his plan for the night. Finally, as he reached the lower floor of the palace and was heading in the direction of the servant’s entrance (only a fool would try to sneak out using the main entrance), two familiar voices made him pause him his tracks. He inhaled sharply and ducked behind a column. His seidr promptly rose to assist him, and with it he vanished from view.

 _What in heaven’s name are_ they _doing down here at this time of night?_

“I worry for them, Frigga. They rarely go out on adventures together anymore.”

Odin’s voice carried down the hall.

_Oh Norns, they’re talking about me and Thor._

Loki could have easily snuck away in that moment, but idle curiosity kept him where he was.

“Their interests have begun to drift apart, my love. Do not fret, they do not quarrel any more than they always have,” said Frigga.

As his parents walked past, Loki found himself shrinking back against the wall. He held his breath, if any two people could see past his current disguise other than Heimdall, it would be the king and queen of Asgard. Their steps did not falter, and they carried on without noticing. A warm feeling of pride burst in his chest.

_Look at you, Loki Odinson. You can fool two of the most powerful people in the entirety of the Nine Realms._

“I fear Loki’s jealousy grows worse than we previously imagined.”

The pride faded and was replaced with the foul sting of bitterness.

_I shouldn’t have expected him to say anything else, he will always think the worst of me._

Having heard enough, Loki turned on his heels and walked in the opposite direction of where his parents were headed. He turned a corner, then another, until he found the unassuming door he was looking for. Loki pushed it open and inhaled the cool night air as it rushed towards him. He moved confidently through the palace grounds, knowing its winding paths like the back of his hand. Finally, he came upon his favorite reading place. Loki settled down in the grass beneath the branches of an old oak tree in the gardens. The sound of the trickling water of a small fountain accompanied the symphony of chirping crickets. With a flick of his fingers, a green flame twirled into existence and shaped itself into a sphere. It hovered above Loki’s head to serve its purpose as a reading light.

Loki read late into the night, until he could fight sleep no longer and fell into a light doze, curled up amongst ancient roots. He awoke when dawn broke, the lightening sky returning him to consciousness. Loki stood up and brushed himself off. He picked a leaf out of his hair with a huff of annoyance.

Loki managed to slip back into the castle without anyone seeing him. As the day wore on with no one confronting him about his little misadventure, he realized belatedly that either no one noticed, or no one cared. The conclusion gave him a peculiar sense of freedom. He tried to focus on that, instead of the bitterness that clogged his throat as he realized that no one felt the need to keep an eye on him.

Well, he could very easily change that if he wished to.

 

On contrary to widespread belief, Loki was much more of an ambivert than an introvert. In smaller, higher class parties that his brother did not attend, he was rather good at being sociable and pleasant. He’d blend in with the crowds of sycophants and nobles, chatting amiably and sipping expensive wine. Sometimes, he would even find himself having an enjoyable time. This was one of the reasons Loki often volunteered for diplomatic ventures to Vanaheim. With a society focused more on magic and learning than battle, Loki often found himself right at home. He appeased their troubles with Asgard by simply worming his way into the noble’s affections and making promises to discuss matters with Odin that he wouldn’t keep. He was even known to be the life of the party at these events. Loki told stories and jokes so eloquently that he would often gather a crowd.

Such was not the case during victorious celebrations after battle on Asgard.

Thor and his crowd of friends would burst into the feast hall. Their celebrations were loud and rambunctious. They would shout and drink, congratulating Thor on his battle prowess, eyes slipping past Loki’s slight stature as though he was not there. The younger sibling would effectively disappear in his brother’s shadow, while Thor drank in all the glory.

It was easier this way, Loki told himself. He didn’t want their attentions anyway. He would make an appearance for as long that was required of him, then he would slip away to pursue other things worthier of his time.

It did not bother him that time they had slain the dragon.

Thor had heard rumors of a young dragon terrifying villagers on a different realm. Odin granted him his quest to take care of the threat, so the brothers, the Warriors Three, and Sif went off together to find it. Thor and Loki had gotten separated from the rest of the group. When the other four found them again, they were standing and grinning at each other, basically unharmed, with the dragon laying dead at their feet. For a moment, he felt a rush of camaraderie with Thor that he hadn’t felt in a long time. However, the feeling did not last once they had returned home.

No one mentioned that without Loki’s magic, Thor’s arm would have remained broken from the first blow he had taken from the beast, and he would not have managed to land the killing strike. No one mentioned that without Loki’s illusions, its massive claws would have skewered the God of Thunder, and that he would have most likely met his end on a foolish, petty errand. In fact, very few mentioned Loki at all, and if they did it was to scorn him.

_“Thor practically took that beast down on his own! We all know that other prince is not a warrior himself, he probably did nothing but hide behind a rock and cheer his brother on!”_

_“I would never want to face a dragon with only Loki of all people. The only things he’s good for are his silver tongue and magic tricks.”_

Loki heard the comments and shrugged them off before disappearing back into his rooms. Thor was too drunk to notice. Volstagg had to hold him up to keep him on his feet.

It did not bother him that time Loki had talked them both out of a giant’s cage.

This time hadn’t been Thor’s idea. The two brothers had been kidnapped while returning to the Bifrost site after a hunting trip. Loki had tricked the giant with smooth words and promises of riches. The giant had let Loki out of the cage, and before he could close it again, Loki stabbed a dagger behind his knee. The moment of distraction allowed Thor to call Mjolnir to him and land a fatal blow to the giant’s temple.

The story had gotten twisted once they had returned to Asgard. People made great exaggerations of Thor’s heroics. Some stated that he had busted them out of the cage with the sheer force of his might. Others said that the giant had seen Thor’s blow coming and had tried to block it, but it mattered not because Thor tore through his defenses and defeated him anyway. Loki’s involvement in the victory mysteriously disappeared from the storytellers’ knowledge.

Loki was used to such happenings. It never bothered him before, and it certainly did not bother him now.

They had won another victory, which of course meant another feast and celebration. Loki picked at the food, before picking up his goblet of mead and hiding himself in the corner of the room to observe the partygoers’ antics. Frigga spotted him and walked to where he stood. He lifted his drink in acknowledgement of her presence before draining the rest of his cup. She stood silently for a moment before she spoke.

“You seem tired, my son.”

Loki hummed in acknowledgment.

“Battle always makes one weary,” he told her. He accepted another goblet from a servant with a murmur of thanks.

“And too much drink clouds the mind,” said Frigga. When Loki did not dissuade her, she pried the drink gently from his hand. He made a noise of protest and she fixed him with a stern look.

“Go rest, Loki. You need it.”

Loki scowled and said, “You never stop Thor from drinking too much.” He realized half a second later how petulant he sounded.

“Ah, but Thor’s mind holds little value in comparison to yours, so his needs not to be saved,” Frigga joked, shooting him a grin. Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

Loki choked out a laugh. Something in his chest hurt when he realized how much he truly loved his mother. Then he let out a sigh. After a joke like that what could he do but reward her with a bit of obedience?

“Very well, Mother.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek before striding from the banquet hall.

_Oh Mother, how I wish you would notice me at moments other than when I’m trying to drink myself into oblivion, or doing something else equally foolish._

 

Thor didn’t notice.

Even as he clutched Loki dying in his arms, even as his brother’s warm blood coated his hands, even as previously brilliant green eyes turned dull and Thor howled as though he was the one who had been stabbed, Thor didn’t notice.

His shoulders shook. His eyes burned. Bitter grief settled in his chest and crawled up his throat until it was choking him.

 _It wasn’t fair_ , Thor thought.

It wasn’t fair that after everything, after Loki had tried to make things right, he would die here. It wasn’t fair to Thor either, because just as he began to see him as his brother again, he would lose Loki once more.

_“I didn’t do it for him.”_

A harsh wind swept through the desolate plains of Svartalfheim, kicking up dry dust and sand in its wake. His brother’s words rang in Thor’s ears. This was not a good place to die.

Thor still didn’t notice.

He would have stayed there for an eternity, arms cradling his little brother’s lifeless body, had Jane not been there to bring him back from his despair. He felt her hand grasp his shoulder and he knew he had to go.

“Thor, you have to leave him.”

“I can’t.”

“You _have_ to.”

So, Thor got up and left. Each step away from his brother’s body felt wrong. He would come back, he promised himself. He would return for Loki’s corpse and give him a proper funeral. But Thor wouldn’t have left, not if he had _noticed_.

While it is true that not all Aesir can manipulate seidr, they all have a sensitivity for it, however weak it may be. Thor channeled his magic through the weather. The power was second nature to him, and unique to him alone. He couldn’t cast workings, not in the same way as his parents and Loki could. Spellcasting was too delicate for his seidr and his lack of experience. Thor had a massive pool of untapped seidr burning within him, but he had never been able to tell it exactly what to do, so it took form in the shape of storms.

Thor’s sensitivity to seidr was not weak. In fact, he had a better sense for it than average. In any other situation, Thor would have been able to sense what was happening, but he was too blinded by grief to notice.

After all that he had been through, Loki should not be alive. He should not have survived his fall from the Bifrost. The only reason he did was because no matter how much he believed otherwise, there was always a part of him that wanted to _survive_.

Seidr reflects the very essence of a person’s being. Because of this part of Loki that so desperately wanted to live, there was a part of his magic that was equally desperate to make it so. Thor should have sensed it. Even as Loki’s breath stuttered to a stop and his pulse faded into nothing, his seidr was still very much _alive_.

It flooded through him, healing and mending, pouring everything into bringing him back. It stopped the bleeding and started his heart again. Loki gasped awake as his lungs started functioning. Agony burned in his chest as his seidr struggled to close the wound. He laid there for a minute, choking on desperate gulps of air as he remembered what it was like to breathe.

_I’m alive._

At first there was no emotion behind the thought, it was simply an acknowledgement of his state of being. Loki struggled to sit up. The agony had dulled into a throbbing ache. He examined what had once been a gaping hole in his chest. It had been reduced to a terrible, pale scar, raised against his skin.

_I’m alive._

Suddenly Loki was laughing hysterically. He clutched his sides as wheezing laughter wracked his body. His face felt wet, and he realized he was crying.

_Thor left me here._

Of course he had. Now that he stopped to consider it, Loki realized he had expected nothing else from his brother. He had to go off to save the day and woo the woman, no matter the fact that his brother’s cooling corpse was lying in the sand. Dying had apparently loosened the tight grip Loki had been keeping on his emotions, and at some point, the laughter had turned into sobs. He brought his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms. In that moment, he felt very young again.

It took Loki a couple minutes to calm down. Then he realized that Thor _truly_ believed he was dead.

_Thor left me with an opportunity._

He hauled himself to his feet and wiped the tears from his cheeks. Loki knew what he was going to do. He started planning his next deception, going over possibilities and outcomes in his mind.

Loki _is_ the God of Mischief after all, you can’t provide him an opportunity like this and _not_ expect him to take advantage.

 

Loki decided he didn’t like spaceships very much. As far as ships go, the _Statesman_ was definitely not small, but with nearly 2,000 Asgardians cramped inside, it still managed to feel crowded. And then there was the issue of food and supplies, or lack thereof. Thor and his makeshift council (that somehow included Loki) were constantly struggling to devise rations to make what they had last longer. Never mind the fact that they were drifting through open space, and every time Loki glanced out the windows he felt his stomach clench due to memories he would rather forget.

Loki also decided that his dislike of spaceships was rather valid.

He currently sat at a round table in what had been made into the council room. His feet were propped up on an empty chair. Thor, the Valkyrie (she still wouldn’t tell them her real name), Korg, and Bruce Banner were also sitting around the table. Bruce was currently talking, going on about how their water supplies would probably last them about a week before it went dry. Loki hadn’t realized he had stopped paying attention until Thor tried to get his attention.

“Loki. Loki, are you listening?”

Loki looked up, blinking in a moment of confusion, before he plastered a perfect smile on his face and took his feet off the chair. He leaned forward, feigning interest, and said, “Why yes of course. I apologize, I merely got lost in thought.”

Thor frowned at him, before shrugging and asking, “Your knowledge of the cosmos is far greater than anyone else here. Do you have an idea of where we could restock supplies?”

Loki hummed in thought, drumming his fingers against the surface of the table. He tried to go back in memory, to a time where he was younger and happier and had nothing better to do with himself rather than learning of the planets that resided within the branches of Yggdrasil, but his mind went blank.

“I have some ideas,” he lied smoothly, “but I will have to discuss them with Heimdall before I have a sure answer.”

In his reply there was a promise, but Loki knew he could keep it if he could just get his mind _functioning_.

Thor stared at him for a moment. Loki realized he was fidgeting uncomfortably with his hands before he laced his fingers together and placed them in his lap.

“Well, I guess that’s all we have to talk about then. Great talk you guys, I love this revolution,” said Korg. He stood up, accidentally knocking over a few chairs in the process and losing another small rock. He stared at it sadly before making his way over to the door, almost knocking over _Loki’s_ chair as well.

“Watch it,” he snapped, a surge of irrational irritation bleeding into his words.

“Oh, sorry bro, didn’t mean to.”

The other people who were sitting at the table were starting to get up and Loki followed suit. He made his way out the door and into the hallway quickly. He felt the absurd urge to _run_ , from what he did not know.

“Hey Loki, wait!” Thor’s voice called after him, but Loki pretended not to hear and he disappeared around a corner. He made himself go invisible before pressing his back against the wall as Thor barreled around the corner. Loki watched as his brother stopped in a moment of confusion, before understanding dawned on his face and he began reaching around blindly.

“Loki! I know you’re there! We need to talk!”

_Sorry, not today ,Brother._

Loki slipped behind Thor into the hallway they both had come from and walked silently away. He waited until he had walked a decent distance away from Thor before he dropped the working. Loki stopped when he realized he had ended up at a dead end and had no idea where he was in relation to the rest of the ship.

_Well that’s utterly fantastic._

Reluctant to go back the way he came, Loki studied the room he had walked into. It looked like a small living area, with couches and chairs taking up most of the space. Nothing about it appeared remotely interesting, and Loki was about to leave until his sharp eyes spotted a keypad at the other end of the room. Curiosity peaked, he made his way over to the object in question. The keypad needed an access code. Loki placed his hand against it and sent a stream of seidr through his fingers. The keypad sparked as its circuits shorted, and a door that had been previously hidden slid open.

Loki had found the bar.

Sure enough, there was a bright red bar fitted with electric blue stools. Behind it, there were shelves of bottles filled with all kinds of alcohol. There was a storage closet to the left of it, which Loki assumed held more liquor. He had found a goldmine, and he decided that he was going to make the most of it right now before Valkyrie discovered it and drank it dry. He prayed that no one would find him and just leave him in peace.

Thor found him nursing his fifth bottle.

“Loki, what are you-” his voice faltered as he took in the scene. Loki sat at one of the barstools, swaying slightly as he clutched his drink. Four empty bottles sat in a neat row in front of him.

“Oh,” Thor said softly. He watched as Loki took another swig from the bottle before he let out a heavy sigh and sat down on the stool next to him. Loki briefly glanced towards him.

“Go away.”

Despite probably being so drunk he could hardly stand, Loki’s voice barely slurred.

“No,” said Thor stubbornly, before reaching his hand out towards his brother, “Share that with me.”

Loki looked towards Thor, then to the bottle, then back to Thor again. Reluctantly, he handed over the drink. Thor brought it to his lips and took a huge gulp, only to start coughing and set it down on the bar.

“Ugh, what _is_ that?” he spluttered, Loki snickered obnoxiously before snatching it back from him. 

“Who knows, who cares,” said Loki before draining the bottle. He set it down at the end of the row he was making and grabbed another. Thor watched, mildly alarmed, as his brother unscrewed the cap and tossed the drink back.

“Should I be worried?” he asked.

“Probably,” Loki informed him before taking another gulp of the liquor.

“Why did you do it?” Thor asked suddenly, his voice dropping to barely more than a whisper. Loki was silent for a couple of seconds.

“Why did I do _what_ exactly? You see, I’ve done a lot of questionable things as of late, so you’ll have to be more specific. We could start from the beginning. How things went wrong back on Asgard, my tragic backstory on why I turned into a villain. Or maybe you were referring to Svartalfheim, that worked out rather conveniently for me I must say. Then there’s Sakaar more recently,” Loki paused to give a bitter laugh, “but you really don’t know anything about what I did there. And finally, we have now. Why did I decide to help you? Why am I still here? Honestly, I don’t have a single cl-” Loki’s mouth clamped shut as he realized how much he had been rambling.

“Oh Norns,” said Thor, “you really are drunk.”

“Thank you for that observation,” Loki told him drily.

“I was talking about Svartalfheim,” Thor clarified.

“Ah, of course you were,” said Loki without continuing.

“Well, explain,” Thor prompted.

Loki still didn’t say anything.

“ _Loki,_ ” said Thor.

“Okay fine!” he burst out before falling silent. He took a shuddering breath before saying, “I meant to die, Thor.”

Thor stilled, blue eyes widening in shock.

“It wasn’t that I _wanted_ to die per se, it would just be easier that way.”

“Why?” Thor asked.

“What better way to become a hero than to die one? All my evil deeds erased in a single moment of self-sacrifice. It wasn’t like I was _planning_ on it. I saw you struggling and the idea came to me. Save my brother, become a hero, all in one fell swoop. So yes, in that moment it _was_ my intent to die. That would be better to the alternative to spending the rest of my life trapped in a cage like a rabid animal.”

Thor paused for a moment, absorbing the information, before he nodded like it all made sense.

_When did you become so boring, Brother? A few years ago, the mere idea of me thinking about suicide would have sent you into a blind rage._

“So why didn’t you die then?” Thor asked.

Loki let out a small chuckle, “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean by that?”

Loki shrugged, “It means I don’t know. I think it was my seidr. I didn’t ask it to save me, it simply did.”

Thor nodded again, “Well I’m glad you’re not.”

Loki looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Dead, I mean,” said Thor quickly.

Loki’s lips twitched upwards in a faint imitation of a smile.

“I think I might be too,” he said softly.

 A bizarre feeling of happenings bloomed in Thor’s chest at those words, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

“Oh, stop looking at me like that, you sentimental oaf,” quipped Loki, throwing a bottle cap at Thor. It nailed him straight in the forehead and he squawked in surprise. Loki cackled and would have fallen off his chair had Thor not caught him.

“Yeah I think that’s enough, Brother.”

Thor pried the bottle gently out of his hands. Loki made a low growling noise but gave in.

“Alright, let’s go, you need to sleep that off. Can you stand?”

Loki slid off the stool and promptly crumpled into a heap on the floor. He groaned.

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

Thor grabbed his brother’s arm and slung it across his shoulders. He hauled Loki to his feet with ease. They took a couple steps before Loki’s usually pale face went green.

“Oh Norns, I think I’m going to be sick.”

Thor practically carried him to the nearest sink (which happened to be behind the bar) and Loki hurled. He coughed and retched until his stomach was empty and even then, he did not stop. Thor pulled his dark hair away from his face and gripped his shoulder.

“Oh wow, weren’t you the one who always told me to drink in moderation?”

“Shut... up,” Loki managed to choke out before he went back to throwing up.

“There, there,” said Thor, sarcastically patting Loki’s back because he knew he would hate it.

Sure enough, Loki stopped puking long enough to say, “I hate you.”

Finally, after nearly three agonizing minutes, the episode seemed to be over. Loki collapsed against the counter, moaning in misery. His entire body was trembling.

“You’re not going to pass out, are you? If you do pass out I _will_ carry you.”

Loki glared at him before growling, “Don’t you dare.”

Then he passed out.

Thor sighed.

With a grunt of effort, he hoisted Loki over his back. Thor figured that he would be less likely to be stabbed if his brother awoke being carried on his back instead of being cradled in his arms. Luckily most of the ship had already gone to sleep, so Thor encountered no one on the way to Loki’s room except for a disgruntled looking Bruce Banner. When Bruce saw them, he raised an eyebrow in question.

“He drank until he passed out,” Thor informed him in a loud whisper.

“Ah, that almost sounds great right now,” Bruce replied.

Thor smothered a laugh.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked. Bruce shrugged.

“About as well as usual.”

Thor gave him a sympathetic smile.

“It’s kinda weird though, seeing _him_ like that I mean. It’s hard to believe that’s the same guy we had to stop from conquering the Earth,” said Bruce.

Thor’s smile turned a little sad.

“I don’t think he _is_ the same person. But even then, he’s always been my little brother.”

Bruce smiled, “Aw, that’s cute. Get him to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.” He patted Thor on the arm while passing by, carefully avoiding touching Loki.

When Thor finally deposited him in his bed, Loki stirred. A single green eye opened to a slit and watched him for a moment. Then he said, “You carried me, didn’t you?”

Thor gave him a smug grin.

“Yep,” he said cheerfully.

Thor laughed and dodged a pillow that went flying in his direction. He decided in that moment, while Loki flung halfhearted insults at him before curling around a pillow, that he would never let his brother sulk alone and unnoticed again.

Teasing him was much more fun anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> guys i went into this having no idea how to work ao3, and im finishing it with still no fucking clue.


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